


the cherries in your mouth spill stars

by Kittog



Series: you should save your heart for me [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Friends With Benefits, Jackson Just Wants To Be Loved, M/M, jinyoung somehow owns lingerie, no i will not apologise for plugging in some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittog/pseuds/Kittog
Summary: jackson falls upon something he isn't meant to see.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Series: you should save your heart for me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156409
Comments: 27
Kudos: 49





	the cherries in your mouth spill stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omgahgase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgahgase/gifts).



> title from cherries by hope tala. in reference to the things jinyoung whispered against jackson's skin.
> 
> miah gave me a prompt that was initially meant to be a drabble for curiouscat/twitter but... it kind of got out of control. enjoy the consequences, i guess?
> 
> unbeta'd! (i wrote this in like a day or so, hopefully this isn't too bad)

"Jinyoung? Have you seen my—ah, _there it is_!"

Jackson walks towards his thick leather belt which had seemingly lost itself between piles of clothes and wide open textbooks. Jinyoung's room is quite the mess, to say the least: the most random things lie on the wooden floor as if gravity had been too strong for them to defy it and stay in place. Jackson doesn't mind—Jinyoung's room was rarely every tidy after all, but as finals approach them and deadlines continuously add layers of pressure on top of their shoulders, it appears the sociology major is unable to keep some sense of order in his own room.

But again, Jackson doesn't mind. If anything he appreciates the mess that surrounds him, it makes Jinyoung more anchored into his reality and breaks the eternal myth of the pristine academic prodigy. Jinyoung has flaws too and the main one is that he can't keep a single room tidy.

Jackson picks up his belt. It had somehow entangled itself in the insides of Jinyoung's wrinkled shirts, some of which Jackson has definitely unbuttoned over the past few days (Jinyoung has been surprisingly terribly stressed and, well, Jackson is always eager to help—or in this case, please.). He smiles as he recognises the one he almost ripped off last night because Jinyoung had been so damn impatient, so damn needy, so damn desirous, Jackson felt as if he had no other choice but to wreck him against the creased sheets of Jinyoung's bed? The fabric is a dark shade of navy blue, one which suits Jinyoung perfectly, and made of cotton, just as every shirt he owns.

Jackson crouches as he slides the belt around the waistband of his ripped jeans, and buckles it. His waist is so thin he has to tighten it a little more—he likes to highlight it and he likes showing it off even more since he found out Jinyoung finds it terribly attractive. Not that it's meant to matter: Jackson isn't even sure the two of them could call themselves "friends". Acquaintances, maybe. Yeah, acquaintances who fuck, a bunch.

He tries to get his hand on the missing piece of his outfit: a large dark tank top, one of his favourite items (it shows off both his arms and bits of his torso—a killer combo, as he calls it). He picks up Jinyoung's clothes and moves them around, wondering where the hell could they have possibly thrown the top. Moments from last night run through his mind as he does so, some coming in as flashes, while others linger in his mind.

He remembers the demanding texts Jinyoung had sent him while Jackson was still very much in the midst of his evening linguistic lecture. He remembers Jinyoung pressing himself against Jackson as soon as he had stepped into the messy apartment. The obscene whispers which fell into Jackson's ears played back endlessly in his head, both a lovely melody and sweet torture. The feeling of Jinyoung's thick tongue running across his neck, his jawline, before nipping the skin as though he was about to devour Jackson, teasing and needy—Jackson could still feel it on his skin, and deep down he wished the sensation could never leave him.

He wishes he could have Jinyoung like that all the time: on his knees, begging for him, for all of him. Jinyoung was good, he was so good. The more Jinyoung got, the more explicit the profanities that escaped his cock-swollen lips were. But he was so greedy. He wanted so much more.

But what Jinyoung wants, Jinyoung gets.

So Jackson offered all of himself to him, obviously. Whatever Jinyoung asked for, Jackson would give it to him, he would make sure it was exactly how Jinyoung wanted it. He'd catch praise after praise, beg after beg, and treasure them as if they were the most precious thing Jackson had been given.

After a while, Jinyoung was nothing but sounds. It was his sweet whimpers and breathless moans which defined him then—no word would come out of his mouth besides urging begs and Jackson's name, which he rolled on his tongue over and over again. Jackson felt almost drunk from the sounds themselves, because Jinyoung sounded so pretty, head buried in the crook of Jackson's neck, his trembling legs wrapped around Jackson's waist as he—

Yeah, no, that's not helping at all.

_Focus, Wang. Focus._

"Nyoungie, where'd you throw my top?"

It's no surprise that his question remains unanswered. Jinyoung has been so busy lately, he can't even take his time in the morning—Jackson can smell the bitter smell of coffee from his room, which means Jinyoung is already about to leave for the library, as he always does these days.

It would be a lot easier if Jackson could simply borrow one of Jinyoung's plain hoodies or even one of his shirts but Jinyoung is so broad, none of his clothes fit him—he'd look too small, too tiny, and, well, Jackson likes feeling grand, taller than he actually is.

He continues his adventure in the maze that has become the floor and walks over Jinyoung's clothes, making sure he wouldn't trip onto a textbook maliciously hidden under a wrinkled tee.

And then, he sees it, his tank top, curled into a ball against Jinyoung's bedside table. He picks it up, unravels it, and quickly pulls it back on. There are bits of dust clutched to the dark fabric—this usually pisses Jackson off, but he didn't have the time nor the energy to whine because of a tank top. Besides he already does on a solid weekly basis.

But there's something else besides at the foot of the wooden table. It's white, there's lace too, and it's pretty enough to catch Jackson's attention immediately and—it's lingerie. Jackson freezes. Jinyoung doesn't sleep with girls or at least hasn't slept with any in a long time—that Jackson knows for _sure_ —which probably means that the piece belongs to an unexpected one nightstand.

Or that it belongs to Jinyoung.

Could it?

Without thinking, Jackson picks it up. It's nice, it's awfully nice and pretty—the lace is thin and elegant, and the whole piece is so charming that it makes Jackson ponder a little more than he should. Jinyoung must look absolutely gorgeous, he must look even more ethereal than he already is, wearing _nothing_ but this. He must be the most beautiful sight there is, the most breathtaking lover anyone has ever laid their eyes on.

However, it quickly hits Jackson that there must have been a reason for Jinyoung not to wear those with him. And that hurts. A little more than it should. Is he not worthy enough?

Again, it shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter one bit because Jackson knows both of them wander around, there's no such thing as being exclusive, not considering their deal. But it hurts. It hurts so much because Jackson wishes he was good enough to see Jinyoung like this. He wishes he could be considered as something bigger. Something more important.

Jackson wishes he was loved and cherished enough to share more intimate moments with others, and perhaps he is absolutely whipped for Jinyoung, which of course, doesn't help, but also that's kind of unfair.

"Hey, I'm about to leave, do you want anything for, hm, breakfast? I don't have much but—" A pause. Jackson isn't so sure how the situation looks from Jinyoung's eyes. He believes Jinyoung can see how wide Jackson's big dark eyes are—maybe he can see the hint of pain which pinches Jackson's heart too.

"Seun-ah? What are you hiding?" Jinyoung's voice isn't even threatening. It's soft, just like his eyes, just like his skin, just like Jinyoung always is when Jackson's around. Or at least, Jackson hopes. But it shouldn't matter. It's part of their arrangement after all. Jackson isn't meant to overthink the peculiar concept that Jinyoung is as a whole, but as his fingers cling to the lacy cotton fabric, he can't help it.

"Hm, sorry, I—I just, hm—is this, _fuck_ , is this yours?" Jackson stutters, none of his words is willing to stick to their rightful spot, which Jackson loathes, because what's even the point of studying linguistics if you can't even stick to basic grammatical rules. Jinyoung's jaw drops when he sees the piece of fabric in Jackson's fingers. He doesn't move, however, and Jackson definitely doesn't know what to do with that.

"Yeah, this—this is mine," he breathes, and Jackson swallows, he swallows hard.

"Okay, yeah, that—that's valid, hm, sorry about that, I—I didn't mean to— _to look_ ," _They're nice_ , he wants to add but his throat clenches around nothing and it hurts so bad, Jackson is pretty sure he could cry but that's stupid, that's so stupid, he lacks words to describe how absolutely stupid he's being right now.

Jackson wishes Jinyoung's words were soft as they escape his lips, soft like a comforting hug, the kind you easily break into tears in—but Jackson is met with awkwardness.

"Yeah, no worries, it's alright, I should have put these away the other day—I'm not good at keeping this room tidy, but that you already know," Jinyoung says, drowned in embarrassment. He finishes with a nervous laugh, one which Jackson has never heard before but that he already cannot bear.

"It's okay, I'll just—I'll just go, I have to, hm, finish an essay or two anyway," Jackson mumbles, folding the panties and placing them delicately on the nightstand, eyes on the floor—he can't bring himself to look through Jinyoung's dark irises. He walks past him, barely brushing against Jinyoung's shoulder as he does so. It's not like he's lying anyway—he has essays to finish, he's been working so hard all semester, he really couldn't afford to mess up for another pretty boy.

The small cosy living room is just as cluttered as Jinyoung's room—sometimes it makes Jackson wonder if hurricanes dropped by his door to mess with his surroundings. He can hear Jinyoung steps behind him, curious and hesitant, as Jackson collects his phone and his shoulder bag.

"Jackson?"

The voice is tentative and uncertain—Jackson doesn't answer, he doesn't even know what to say. He finds back his Timberlands not far from the door, and the position each shoe is set in awfully remind him of their nocturnal whereabouts.

"Did I do anything wrong? Is it the—did it make you feel uncomfortable? Jackson?" There are hints of panic in Jinyoung's voice as it breaks—Jackson shakes his head, bitter, feeling so damn stupid.

"No, it's not," he raises his head, and he's met with a glassy pair of eyes. It hurts seeing the product of his own actions, witnessing a sour confusion colour Jinyoung's face. It doesn't look good. It doesn't look good at all. "I—I just—they're pretty, they're _really_ pretty, it's not— _look_ , I really need to go," he blurts out, tying his shoelaces as quick as he can, which isn't as easy as he had first pictured since his hands won't stop trembling. "I'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

An uncomfortable silence settles itself between them and suddenly Jackson can't help but think he likes it better when the space between them is filled with Jinyoung's sweet word and pretty moans. This doesn't feel quite right.

"I never—I never wore these with anyone if that's, hm, if that's what you're wondering," Jinyoung lets out. His breaths are a little louder now, as they always are when Jinyoung is anxious, and Jackson hears them all.

_Oh._

"I mean, it's pretty uncommon isn't it?" Jinyoung laughs nervously. "I have a couple of these but—you know, it's so hard for me to be comfortable enough around others? So I just keep these to myself."

Jackson wants to slam his head against the closest wall. He's so stupid. He's so fucking stupid.

"Oh fuck—I—no, God, don't—man, I'm so, I'm so dumb," he babbles, fingers still onto his shoelaces. "I thought—fuck—I though you—"

"Would you like me to wear them for you?"

Jackson looks up again. Jinyoung is biting his lower lip, eyes round and pretty. The question is so innocent yet filled with so many suggestive undertones, Jackson doesn't know on which he'd rather focus.

"Sorry, I—you said you found them pretty, I assumed—"

"Yeah," Jackson finally breathes, "I think I'd like that very much."

Jinyoung's entire face breaks into smiles of relief, his eyes turning into moon crescents. His shoulders fall back, releasing the palpable tension Jackson was responsible for. He's so beautiful, Jackson thinks, and Jackson is so dull, he's so fucking dull.

"You're free on Friday, right?"

"Yeah, Friday's good," Jackson nods, almost too eager. Friday sounds absolutely perfect. "'m sorry, I'm so—"

"It's okay, I understand."

Jinyoung understands. Jinyoung perceives him from angles Jackson isn't aware of. Jinyoung just knows, and it makes Jackson feel safe and sound.

"Good luck for today, hm? With your essays and all."

Jackson smiles at the sweet words of encouragement, they sound even better when Jinyoung is the one to release them for him.

"Thanks, you too, Jinyoung."

He looks through his eyes one last time, absorbs the smell of coffee and textbooks, he makes sure to remember each detail of Jinyoung's smiling face and turns the doorknob.

Maybe he was wrong earlier, maybe Jinyoung already cherishes him a bunch.

Whatever he can't wait for Friday.

**Author's Note:**

> *sigh* 
> 
> yes, i'm working on the last sfasp chapter. yes, i'm also nearly done with the work au/nye thingy thing. no, i do not know what i'm doing. you're welcome. 
> 
> come yell at me on [twitter](twitter.com/kittog__) and/or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/kittog) you can give me some prompts for some drabbles if you'd like, they're fun to write.
> 
> you are also very welcome to scream at me in the comment section. i don't bite, promise. besides, i unfortunately rely a lot on external validation. you know what to do!


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